


Industrial Work

by Abka_Aten



Series: The Future of That Day [1]
Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: Coming of Age, F/M, Gen, Genderbending, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 09:32:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11506599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abka_Aten/pseuds/Abka_Aten
Summary: She searched for her son, a son that already belonged to someone else.





	Industrial Work

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. English is not my first language.
> 
> An AU in which Doumeki succeeded to prevent Watanuki becoming a defunct shopkeeper, she was still one but not as loner and defunct such as in canon; in this AU Yuuko promised to come back in the future.
> 
> I'd saw in Rou that his mother called Shizuka with honorific -san, similar to the other formal household like the Touya (from Hikaru no Go)

Doumeki Akane liked to think that she was a decent mother. Not the best nor perfect, but a decent one, what with the formal way the Doumeki family had conducted themselves over the years. Her handsome and quiet son was born as a sickly child, a frail and fragile starling and moon in cloudy night, like a half done cheese; still runny but had the chance to become healthy and mature.

Akane dressed him in formal kimono like a little princess, a small sacrifice for his future like her Father-in-law advised her.

Her child grew to be a lonely boy, a little bird caged in her golden gilded garden but he understood his Grandfather words, he was a kind soul with open-minded mind, who loved her Grandmother’s tale of sprites, spirits and ghost.

One day, she forgot the season that Shizuka asked permission for his friends to come.

Flustered at his request, she’d lamented the fact that she didn’t make many side dishes and promptly went to cool the watermelons for Shizuka’s first friends.

 

* * *

 

It was the end of Spring, the heat was starting to become unbearable as summer flowers grew in their buds, the rows of Cherry blossoms trees were green under the blazing sun, white, snowy clouds were nowhere in sight.

She found him, suddenly was so much taller than his Father and Grandfather, weary and tired in the way an old man waiting for his death, sitting soundlessly in the kitchen, in his hand was a clothed lunchbox, the light yellow fabric was richly embroidered (by hand, she noted) in blue butterflies.

He never cried, even when his Grandfather died and his Father rarely went home. He just did his duties, piled after Akane worked back in the family company. She regretted the way he grew up fast; like his father, tall, stoic and silent and responsible with no sweet smile graced his features and no sadness and anger that she could sooth in rainy, moonless night.   

The anguish look in his face would forever etched in her mind as he opened the lunchbox, fresh inarisuzhi, salad with vegetables in season, heart shaped rice ball died in pink beet juice, golden tamagoyaki and grilled salmon.

His son was in love.

It was so strange to see his sadness lounged in those usual serene golden eyes.

He ate the lunch in silence, his mind flew faraway, probably never realized her presence as she felt helpless. The Doumeki’s matriarch prepared a pot of cold barley tea; hoped that this painful heartbreak would end soon.

 

* * *

 

He rarely went home early nowadays, always after dinner. Although she was used to the silence, didn’t mean that she enjoyed it like her son and his stoic father, she rather missed their small talk of his daily life.

 _There was only a little sound in the household, Shizuka was a quiet child_.

She’d supposed this was the usual emptiness that every mother felt when the children trained their wings to fly into the real world when she’d found herself dining alone for the past two months.

One day in the cold winter, he brought boxes upon boxes of home-made cooking and snacks in dark red fabric patterned with orchid as an apology. The bitterness of citrus and the sourness of lime had left his face, such only the fresh, cherry smile that greeted her, adorned his honest face.

Her son and his lover had reconciled, her mind concluded as Shizuka poured the best alcohol that her father-in-law produced into her cup.

Mother and son spent the night over the delicious food and warm sake. 

 

* * *

 

Shizuka bought jewelleries, mostly hairpins and rings the way he always gifted Akane with bracelets in her birthdays over the years. Jade, scarlet rubies, ocean sapphires, coloured pearls were _her_ favourite, _she_ hated new jewelleries, preferred the old, custom-like shape with tales that was told along.

Once he asked Akane’s opinion of heavy silks and satin for winter kimono.

Her son always bought her excellent butterbur and snacks when his Father went home.

Later, she’d met with Tsuyuri Kohane-chan; a cute woman with long, light cinnamon hair, big teal eyes, in her delicate hands was a light green clothed lunchbox. Kohane-chan was silent and golden, followed her only son home, the one he introduced as close friend.

Her husband was fond of her, inquired to Shizuka when he will propose to the sweet Kohane-chan more than once whenever the family enjoyed the rare day off together.

Kohane-chan was wonderful but she would not demand her son to do some errands _(did he think his mother did not know how he’d become so proficient choosing the best quality of ingredients for meals?)_ nor requested him to hunt some mystic pieces of hand-painted fans, scrolls and rings. The most important thing was he had never sent his soft look ( _that he had reserved once after eating the apology meals, he did look at the boxes with such tenderness_ ) for the young woman even when she’d presented him with her latest attempt to cook in the form of beautifully arranged lunchbox.

Instinctively she knew that this woman wasn’t the one who stole her son’s heart.  

 

* * *

 

The woman in Akane’s dream had coarse hands, coarser palms contrasted with the soft buttery-like texture of her garment; she had defined sharp features, cold and pale skin (like-sleet melted upon salt, in her husband opinion, if he was asked such question); delicate lips painted in wilted rose tone with an odd smile began to tilt in the corner of her mouth.

She garbed in _(rather inappropriate)_ open front midnight blue kimono with red roses intertwined with dark green bamboo, her child lay his small head upon her breast, playing with robin blue, lapis eggs; her appearance was so unlike her own proper airy blue one. The shopkeeper’s raven hair in the other hand was plaited and shaped into a complicated up-do, secured with iris amethyst pin and littered with red rubies, in her fingers a golden sparrow chirped, singing an unknown happy song of welcome. 

Akane strangely found the place so familiar.

Then, a melodic sound, sound of wood upon wood could be heard as a game of board played in the corner with two older, dark haired children waged war in the monochrome board.

There were spread of her favoured snacks (lotus roots, sakamanju, dango , croquettes and rice puddings) and two cups of oolong tea.

It seemed like this unknown woman knew she would be coming to this strange shop.

Good, she’d finally come to the right place.

“What is your wish, my dear costumer?”

 

* * *

 

Her son had to double take at the bejewelled pipe that she laid in the glass table, the one that insisted to give to his beau.

The wooden pipe was not an impressive thing, dark wood with carved persimmon and lotus, the flower was lacquered and the fruit decorated with tiny diamonds like real persimmon seeds.

It belonged to her great-great-grandmother; the seer who rumoured to marry a swan then lived together for many years in a secluded lake with said avian.

Her ancestor was an unusual woman who willed that the pipe will be inherited by the female member of the family who wish to marry the son of an exorcist.

She determined to know her, Shizuka’s love, his beautiful swan who birthed or would give-birth her beautiful grandchildren in the past future, whose meals made him smile and healed his heart.

“Kaa-san...”

“Bring her home, Shizuka-san. Your swan.”

 He gave her a feeble, wistful smile before replied.

“I’d try Kaa-san. But my butterfly’s still transforming, once her wings are perfect, we’ll be home soon.”

 

* * *

  _Behind the closed door of a shop  
_

“Butterfly metamorphoses, Doumeki. Not transforming.”

“It’s the principle of thing.”

“I wonder why you’d become a science professor with your appalling knowledge in simple biology.”

“That’s why I teach chemistry.”

“Argh! I just can’t believe you!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
